


Shangri-La (Forbidden Utopia)

by bbusyeo



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Blood, Established Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho, Established Relationship, Fantasy, Ghosts, Goblins, Grim Reapers, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by K-Drama | Korean Drama, Korean Religion & Lore, Kumiho!Hwanwoong, LIVED Era, M/M, Medical Trauma, Minor Violence, Mythology References, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tags May Change, This sounds edgier than it is
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:16:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbusyeo/pseuds/bbusyeo
Summary: If Youngjo tasted blood on Hwanwoong's lips, he didn't say anything; always the gentleman, even while crumbling to ash beneath the younger's fingertips.━━━At Amarys University, the supernatural world collides with the mortal one. Hwanwoong, a rich boy with a secret that could cost him far more than he can pay, meets five other students during his first year at this prestigious all-boys school. Few of them are who they pretend to be, and the lies they spin will close in on them if they don't play their cards carefully.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Everyone, Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho, Kim Youngjo | Ravn & Everyone, Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong, Lee Keonhee & Everyone, Lee Keonhee/Son Dongju | Xion, Lee Seoho & Yeo Hwanwoong, Son Dongju | Xion & Everyone
Kudos: 15





	Shangri-La (Forbidden Utopia)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction here: a University!AU that blends together with Korean mythology featuring Hwanwoong as a kumiho, Seodo as established boyfriends, and Dongju as a playful goblin... with more to be revealed. Updates will be slow, but each will be more interesting the last, I promise!
> 
> Trigger warnings (please click away if any of these disturb you): Animal death, blood, (implied) cannibalism, classism, death, gore, (internalized) homophobia, violence.

Hwanwoong’s first brush with death was when he was three.

A whimper cut off mid-breath, iron surging over roses and lavender to rush into his nostrils. Sticky sanguine pooling on white marble, filling the young child’s wide eyes with nothing but deep, dark, dangerously alluring maroon. Honey-shaded irises hastily covered by a familiar hand, shielding them from the bleeding dog lying lifelessly on the floor. 

Death was inevitable, Hwanwoong was told, innocent expression twisting with blatant confusion as his mother sat him on her lap and held him close, perfect petal-pink lips parting to let slip a few more sentences. Death was inevitable for all mortals, she whispered lowly, but not for them. Because they weren’t the same as the others. 

Then a violet butterfly fluttered past, and he promptly forgot about the conversation. 

When the years passed and Hwanwoong grew from a toddler to a teenager, soft cheeks giving way to a blade-sharp jawline and undeveloped frame morphing into a taut, slender one, his knowledge about death hadn’t changed much — other than that he was immune to it, and that he didn’t need to fear anything the mortals did, he remained ignorant of everything that happened beyond the pristine white walls of his family’s mansion. 

The only place he spent much time at, aside from his home, was the intimidatingly luxurious private school he’d been attending since he was eight years old. Each class only had a dozen pupils at most, and although these students did bond to some extent, everything was so carefully regulated that it was impossible to form any lasting relationships. The hallways were immaculate, with dark oak doors and stairs covered with lush green carpet, French windows providing a view of the endless school grounds. It was a reminder of the school's power, its influence, its brilliant and famous alumni.

Surrounded by extravagant chandeliers and exquisite statues, priceless paintings and glittering gemstones, Hwanwoong found himself lacking nothing aside from the landscape outside his figurative tower. An only child, he was the apple of his parents’ eyes, the planet they revolved around and yanked away from all meteoroids’ paths. It wouldn't have been an exaggeration to say that he was one of the most sheltered kids in the city; at school, the internet’s firewall blocked out anything explicit, and his teachers were forbidden to show any of them violent pictures. At home, none of the graphic novels he owned had any actually graphic images in them, and everything was carefully censored. 

He did bring this up in front of his parents - once at the dinner table, when he was around thirteen. Hearing this, his mother laughed that bright, tinkling laugh of hers and teased him gently — “you have the most handsome father and the most beautiful mother in the world. What more could you want?” — before ruffling his platinum hair and effectively ending the conversation. She would never give him a proper answer, using her sharp intellect and silky voice to turn any exchange round and round in circles until the matter was dropped. It was easy to tell that she wouldn't reveal anything else and Hwanwoong had taken the hint, quietly folding his napkin and waiting for his father to proclaim the meal finished.

It was routine. Once their final meal of the day was finished, Hwanwoong would follow his parents into the living room and choose one of the various games in the cabinets. Whereas many families would simply enjoy some bonding time, or perhaps revel in the innocuous fun of the activity, Hwanwoong’s parents were fixated on winning.

They were respected people, smart and attractive and patient with their disciplined yet playful son, but they were a nightmare to gamble with. Fair play wasn’t necessary in their eyes, and though they let Hwanwoong win his first attempts at every game, they quickly racked up victory after victory against their child. A carefully concealed ace, a strategic slip of the hand — cheating, to be exact, was one of the hidden rules of family bonding time. The blond noticed, but he didn't bring it up, instead finding ways to make the game unravel in his favor.

That was how Hwanwoong learned to read people like he read his cards, to catch the shiftiness in their eyes and the tightness in their mouths. It was a skill that would serve him well. 

━━━

Turning sixteen was an enormous milestone for Hwanwoong. 

His birthday had fallen on a Saturday. As a special treat, he’d been allowed to explore the neighborhood by himself for a few hours, a credit card hidden in the pocket of his gray jacket and platinum hair peeking out from beneath a blue beret. Admiring the autumn foliage and relishing the crisp wind that tugged at his limbs, Hwanwoong was happily sipping at a hot chocolate when he heard the sound of broken sobbing. Brow furrowing with confusion, he slowly stepped towards the alleyway the strange noises were coming from, freezing as his shoe squished an object into the filthy ground. 

Just like that, all was quiet.

Apprehensive about the sudden silence, Hwanwoong hesitated a little before gathering the courage to move. It was darker than he’d initially expected, and he turned the flashlight of his data-less phone on, pointing it this way and that before looking downwards.

At first, Hwanwoong didn’t know what he was looking at. Then, slowly, the puzzle pieces fell into place. High heels and a black skirt, like his mother sometimes wore, a red-and-white blouse, and scarlet curls that glowed — that was normal. That was okay. But what wasn’t normal or okay was how the woman’s head faced the dirt while her body was turned to the sky and how she was drenched in wine-colored liquid as if she were a rag meant to soak it all up.

_One. Two. Three._

The blond shrieked, stumbling backwards against the nearest wall and colliding with it, barely keeping his footing. It was blood. The blood he’d been forbidden from looking at for nearly his entire life was right in front of him, seeping into his vision and filling it with crimson. So this was it — the elixir of life, the bane of all human existence, the fluid he’d last seen when he was only three. 

Hwanwoong couldn’t tear his eyes away.

Time slowed to a grinding halt, everything fading into the background around him. The textbooks hadn’t told him how tempting blood would be, how it’d glow so prettily in the light, how good and clean and delicious it’d smell. His nose twitched a little and he crouched down, transfixed, an ancient hunger gnawing at him. 

It wasn’t the blood he was craving, Hwanwoong realized, practically salivating at this point. It was what it signified - but what was it? What could that be? His gaze roamed down the corpse’s body, concentrated on finding the object of his desires. It was nothing he could see, though, and he hissed in frustration, closing his eyes and focusing solely on what his nose was telling him. 

Her heart.

His fingernails seemed to elongate at the idea, pulse throbbing. The desire to rip the now-still organ from the dead woman’s chest surged over him and he sucked in a breath, unable to stop himself from inching forward. How warm it'd be in his hand, in his mouth, in his throat as it tumbled into the almost bottomless pit of his stomach. No other delicacy would be able to compare if he was just allowed _one bite_ to sate his dizzyingly intense craving, and Hwanwoong hissed at the thought. Bloodlust had him in its grip, intoxicating him and making a monster out of an otherwise perfect young man, and Hwanwoong was powerless to resist. Closer, closer, and closer still, until - 

“Jung Yong Hee. Reply if this is your name.”

The voice was velvety, unaccented and lovely, but the tone was undeniably cold. The blond raised his face dazedly, pupils dilated and the center of his amber irises tinted cherry. When Hwanwoong got the words out of his hoarse throat, the words were a little slurred, as if he’d been inhaling the scent of alcohol instead of blood. “Who are you?”

“Jung Yong Hee, born in the year of the rooster. You were murdered by another of your kind at five hours and twenty-three minutes past noon. You must come with me. Jung Yong Hee, leave your body behind. It is no longer yours.” The presumably male speaker never missed a beat, continuing what seemed like a thoroughly rehearsed speech. Words jumbled together in Hwanwoong's head, and he couldn't tell where one sentence ended and the other sentence began.

Through the haze of desire clouding his mind, it occurred to Hwanwoong that the stranger didn’t know he was the one being addressed. Slowly, he lifted his gaze, but all he could see was sweeping black robes and the brim of a wide black hat. Almost like one of the grim reapers in the stories he'd once -

“Who are you?” Hwanwoong cried out, suddenly shaken out of his stupor. All the horrifying fantasies dancing before him had now evaporated completely and he felt like vomiting onto the pile of black garbage bags nearby, face drained of color. Had he really thought such things? Had he truly thought of this poor, pitiful woman as a slab of meat ready to be devoured? That made him less than a beast, less than an animal that knew nothing more than its thirst for prey.

Eyes now wide, he glanced at the steadily cooling corpse next to him; what was wrong with him? Why had he been so transfixed, completely unable to look away? It took him a while to realize that he was on the ground, knees digging into pebbles and grime and covered with blood that wasn’t his. His pulse throbbed again, but for an entirely different reason, and his arms felt like jelly.

“W-Why are you here? I didn't - I didn't kill her, I promise I didn't..."

“Me?" There was a trace of surprise in the tall man’s words and he looked down, making eye contact with Hwanwoong. The stranger was deathly pale, the lower half of his face obscured by a charcoal mask, and his feline-like eyes met Hwanwoong’s panicked ones. He seemed startled at being noticed and somewhat uncomfortable, Hwanwoong noticed, barely catching the husky murmur that drifted towards him on the August wind. “I'm someone you will not meet for many, many years. Consider yourself fortunate."

And with that, the stranger disappeared. 

━━━

As soon as he’d arrived at the mansion, he’d been met with his mother, who immediately scolded him about the state of his knees and sent him to the bathroom. Strangely, she didn’t seem concerned at all as to whether Hwanwoong had been hurt or not, almost as if she knew the blood wetting the jeans wasn’t his. Instead of fretting or worrying, she helped him wash the fabric before calling his father and dusting the rocks from his skin.

Her nonchalance eased the teenager's shaking, every order bringing some familiarity to him and restoring color to his cheeks. It'd be okay, he chanted to himself, the storming seas inside of him calmed a little by his mother's composure. It'd be okay.

At his father's request, Hwanwoong joined both of his parents in the private study once he had regained control of himself, a cup of hot cocoa in his hand to replace the one that had vanished earlier. A heavy book was open on the mahogany desk, filled with stories and diagrams and paintings all on a very specific type of mythical creature.

 _Kumihos,_ to be exact. Nine-tailed foxes that could transform into beautiful men or women - spirits that seduced humans before either devouring their hearts or sapping their life force away through a deadly kiss, tricksters that could become humans if they fought their instincts and didn’t kill any mortals for a thousand days.

And Hwanwoong’s parents had been two of these infamous kumihos.

It was complicated, the bone-shocked birthday boy was told by his father. Hwanwoong barely managed to make it onto a nearby chair, shaking his head from side to side and trembling with disbelief. He was torn between laughing hysterically and crying, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Although the blond had been born to two humans, the DNA of predators had been mysteriously transferred to him along with the inability to die of old age. Death was an option, not a definite ending.The statement stirred up memories from many summers ago, and Hwanwoong shuddered as he remembered the broken animal he'd caught a glimpse of when he was younger.

What type of sci-fi plot was this?

Blood couldn’t be deceived, his father added; that was why Hwanwoong had been so easily swayed by the smell of it. Why they’d done their best to ensure that he didn’t come into contact with something that could easily become an addiction. This revelation had come sooner than expected, but neither husband nor wife looked particularly distressed about that. In fact, they seemed rather satisfied with this unexpected turn of events, smiling comfortingly at their son. One minute passed without Hwanwoong saying a word, then two, then three.

“Well,” his mother concluded, realizing Hwanwoong wasn't going to speak anytime soon. She nudged the cup of lukewarm chocolate towards him, making eye contact with her husband and letting out a light-hearted laugh. “Now you know where you get your superior genes from, darling.”

━━━

After that, Hwanwoong was taken out of school and taught at home. The blond suspected that it was to make sure he didn't come into contact with more blood; once was more than enough for his easily swayed heart, apparently. Although most of his classes remained the same, he was forced to partake in various physical activities, running around in the family gym and perfecting his natural dancing abilities. Something he could fall back on as a coping mechanism, he was told. Something that would keep him busy and stay with him when he left for the dormitories.

Hwanwoong had decided to attend Amarys University. A school known in both the human and non-human world for its unique teaching system and diversity, Hwanwoong had carefully analyzed each part of its website before deciding to send a heavily revised application. He wanted to major in dance; he’d started dancing at the age of fourteen, led to it by his mother, a once legendary ballet dancer, and fell in love with it before he was much older.

Amarys University had a strange curriculum. It was divided into two, and the side you’d be part of was decided by a small survey you were sent when you applied. It was more of a personality test than anything, Hwanwoong had thought as he ticked the box next to ‘prefer to observe rather than to daydream’, vaguely confused. His parents left him alone for most of the arduous process, his father occasionally dropping by to check his enrollment form and essay.

One half of the school spent most of their time on discussions and developing theories; their field trips were centered around creative aspects of everyday life, even if the course they were taking was related to science or math. It was specifically tailored to those who relied on their intuition. The other half collected evidence to prove existing theories, performing experiments and gaining more hands-on experience. This side was tailored to those that gathered information from their surroundings — it was also the side that Hwanwoong would belong to, if the university's reply a few weeks later proved anything.

“Amarys? That’s too far away, isn’t it?” his mother sighed, stirring her milk tea and frowning at her son. She seemed utterly unconcerned about the contents of the envelope in Hwanwoong’s hands, no jittery nerves or tentative hope in her confident expression; she was completely certain of his abilities, Hwanwoong realized with a gulp. He was fully expected to have been accepted. When the blond met his father’s gaze, he was hit by a similar epiphany; both of his parents looked completely calm, almost unamused. “Go on, then. Save us the wait.”

Hwanwoong shook his head from side to side with a forlorn air about him, opening the cream envelope sealed with red wax and stamped with ‘CONFIDENTIAL’ to reveal a handwritten letter. Old-fashioned, he noted, unfolding it with trembling hands. 

‘Dear Yeo Hwanwoong,

Congratulations! We are delighted to offer you admission to the prestigious Amarys University for Spring 2021...’


End file.
